


All I Want For Christmas Is...

by Nostalgia_101



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nostalgia_101/pseuds/Nostalgia_101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU - Emma takes on a job playing guitar and singing Christmas songs at the airport to earn extra cash, which quickly drains her festive spirit. So it's a good thing the charming guy with the English accent who works at the coffee shop is there to brighten her day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want For Christmas Is...

If there were a medal to be earned for cheerfully singing Christmas songs at the airport while internally struggling not to punch travellers in the face, then Emma was going for fucking gold. It was only an hour into her first shift, strumming away at her guitar ‘getting people jazzed for the holidays’ (the management’s words, not hers) and she was already regretting filling in the application form to earn some extra cash. She was also regretting the day she started to learn guitar, leading her to this point in her life. Hell, she was regretting those weird bangs she had in eighth grade, which had nothing to do with her current situation but if you’re on a regret spiral you may as well go hard or go home.

_Speaking of the place of residence you won’t have if you can’t pay your rent_ … Fighting back a deep sigh, Emma brightened her smile and belted out another verse to Frosty the Snowman, trying not to think about thumpity-thumping the guy who nearly knocked down her music stand over the head with his own luggage.

Ho, ho, fucking ho.

* * *

“Usually I’d recommend the Christmas cruller but I’d wager you’d like to avoid anything festive-related at the moment.”

Dragging her eyes away from the glass cabinet of bakery treats she’d been pondering over, Emma glanced up to see the man behind the counter smirking at her (and looking far too handsome for someone wearing a reindeer antler headband). “How do you figure that?” she said with a frown. “I’m not even wearing my ‘I’m a Grinch ask me how’ t-shirt today.”

His smile broadening, the man nodded his head towards the elaborate Christmas tree across the way from the coffee and donut shop. Her equipment was still set up in front of it waiting for her to return from her break. “I’ve been listening to you play for the past couple of hours,” he said, resting his forearms on top of the counter and leaning in conspiratorially towards her. “Tell me, is your version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town meant to terrify just children or adults too?”

Emma winced, recalling the way she’d practically demon-serenaded (‘ _You better watch OUT, you better NOT cry_ ’) the obnoxious family who’d stopped right in front of her to argue over who was getting the window seat and how ‘Brandon won’t give me the iPad, mom, he’s so stupid, MOM LISTEN TO ME’. 

“It’s from my holiday duet album with Freddy Krueger,” Emma replied, offering him a sheepish shrug. “Michael Bublé was busy.”

The man (or ‘Rudolph’ as his nametag implied) laughed and gave her a wink. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for it on iTunes,” he smiled, leaning back to pick up a large takeaway coffee cup. “Shall I make you a drink while you keep perusing the goods?” he asked, eyes shining with mischief when Emma raised an eyebrow his way. “The baked goods of course.”

“I’ll have a hot cocoa with cinnamon thanks, Reindeer Games,” Emma replied, her lips curling up in a smirk. “Throw in a bear claw too, please.”

“And what name should I put the drink under?” he asked, hand poised ready with a black marker. “Just so there’s no mix-ups with other customers you see.”

Emma glanced around the near-empty shop then back to the charming idiot with the charming English accent, currently giving her his best innocent look. “Yeah, I can tell you’re super busy,” she replied, shaking her head in bemusement. “You know what, just call me Scrooge.”

“Wonderful,” the man grinned as he wrote the name on the cup in a neat scrawl before opening the tin with the cocoa powder. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Scrooge.”

“Likewise, Rudolph.”

* * *

_Dear diary, when will my Christmas spirit return from war?_ Emma shook herself from her thoughts and tried to keep her longing stare towards the exit at bay while she finished up the last song before her much-needed break. Day two of the week-long gig already felt like day two hundred and two, and she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to maintain an aura of positive energy to make it all the way through to Christmas Eve.

Emma switched off her microphone and settled her guitar in its case, making a beeline for the donut shop. What she lacked in good vibes she could definitely make up for with a sugar high. And OK, the company wasn’t bad either.

Even if he _was_ wearing a hat with giant elf ears attached to it today.

“Scrooge!” the shop guy cheerfully called out as he saw her approach. “Good to see you again, lass.” He wiped down the top of the counter and tucked the cloth into the pocket of his green apron. “Hot cocoa with cinnamon?”

Emma nodded as she approached, stupidly pleased he remembered. “That would be perfection, Rudolph,” she greeted, before squinting at his nametag. “Or apparently we’re Buddy today?”

He gave her a grin. “Tis the season and all that.”

“God, I wish the season would just suck it,” Emma sighed, hiding a smirk when she saw him laugh. “As you can probably tell, I’m happy to stick with Scrooge.”

“Ahh, but are we more Ebenezer or McDuck?” he asked, lifting an empty cup from the stack on top of the coffee machine.

“Well, Scrooge McDuck had that big-ass vault of money to swim around in,” she contemplated, tucking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “And if I had that I wouldn’t be here right now selling my soul via song, so Ebenezer it is.”

“Wasn’t old Ebenezer quite rich too?”

“Yeah but he didn’t have half as much fun,” Emma countered. “Plus there’s the whole duck/swan thing, so…” She paused when the shop guy gave her a curious look. “My, uh, my last name is Swan,” she explained.

“Swan,” he repeated, writing it on her cup for good measure. “I like it,” he smiled, holding out his hand to her. “Jones. Sadly not bird related but it will suffice.”

Emma shook his hand, snickering when the movement made the little bells tinkle on his elf hat. “Buddy Jones or Rudolph Jones, though?” she asked with a smile. “Because they’re both pretty special, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Perhaps you’ll have to stop by again tomorrow and find out?” he said with a hopeful smile.

She gently slipped her hand away from him and tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling a flush of warmth spread across her face. “Perhaps I will.”

* * *

Emma was profoundly relieved that when the airport manager popped by the next afternoon for a surprise visit, she was singing something appropriate and not the ‘Batman smells’ version of Jingle Bells she’d been contemplating just to amuse herself. Emma was less relieved, however, when the manager shoved a Santa hat onto her head without any warning while she was halfway through Silent Night. The manager didn’t even stay until the end of the song, giving Emma an overly exuberant thumbs-up before disappearing into the throng of holidaymakers.

Nudging the scratchy wool of the hat up her forehead to a more comfortable position, Emma turned towards the donut shop where Jones was chuckling at her. He pointed to his own Santa hat and mouthed the word ‘twins’ before offering her an exaggerated thumbs-up, mocking the manager.

Laughing a little too loudly in the direction of the microphone so that it echoed around the food court, Emma quickly cleared her throat and started to sing her next carol. The melody of which was drowned out by continued announcements over the PA for the Stevenson family to board their flight to Chicago as they were the last passengers and the aircraft was waiting for immediate departure.

_Merry goddamn Christmas to you too, Stevenson family. Maybe Santa will bring you all the gift of telling the freakin’ time._

Emma closed her eyes and strummed her guitar louder before conceding defeat and packing up for her break. _You win this round, airport assholes._

“Large size cup today, Swan, or would you prefer the IV drip special?”

Traipsing into the shop like the human embodiment of a weary sigh, Emma slumped onto one of the stools at the counter and rested her chin in her hand. “Is there an arsenic special by any chance?” she muttered. “Because I’ll have a double.”

Tilting his head at her in sympathy, Jones took a bear claw off the tray with some tongs and put it on a plate before sliding it her way. “On the house,” he said with a kind smile. “Plus we’re fresh out of poison, but I can double the dose of cinnamon in your cocoa if you like?”

She smiled at him in thanks, pulling off a piece of pastry to chew on. “I think I might just have coffee today. Cocoa is for people who don’t have murder in their hearts.”

“As opposed to the last two days where your heart has been full of gingerbread and tinsel I gather?” he asked in an angelic tone.

“Touché, smartass,” she replied, masking the quirk of her lips by shoving more pastry into her mouth.

“That would be ‘touché, Killian’, actually,” he said conversationally as he poured her some coffee from the freshly brewed pot. He smiled when he saw her glancing at his nametag, which displayed ‘St. Nick’ in large cursive font. “Had to keep up appearances,” he said, gesturing towards his Santa hat.

“That’s a shame, I was kinda hoping you’d go back to the reindeer theme,” said Emma teasingly. “Prancer has a nice ring to it. Ooh, or Vixen. That’s saucy.”

“Killian will do,” he replied with a smirk, handing her the coffee. 

“Well then,” said Emma, taking a sip of her drink. “I suppose Emma will do, too.”

Humming in appreciation, Killian leaned against the counter. “Now that we’re on a first name basis do I get to make song requests?”

“Depends on what the song is,” she said playfully.

“Stop me if this is too festive,” he said in a mock serious fashion, “but I think a rousing rendition of Smoke on the Water would be tremendous.”

Emma snorted at him. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

* * *

A man who wasn’t Killian greeted her at the counter of the donut shop the next day, with all the enthusiasm of a slug on death row. Which, to be fair, had been close to Emma’s own modus operandi the past few days. But it still rattled her not to see the kind blue eyes she’d become accustomed to.

“I said what’ll it be then?” the man with the closely cropped brown hair repeated in a monotone.

“Oh, um, just a large coffee, thanks,” Emma replied, realizing she’d been standing there mute. “No cream.” The man made a grunting noise and set about pouring her drink. “Killian not on today, then?” she asked in what she hoped was a breezy tone.

“Nope, it’s the lucky git’s day off.” The man (his nametag carrying the very merry name of ‘Will’) cast an almost bemused eyebrow her way. “Yer wouldn’t be Emma by any chance, would’ja? The singin’ bird?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Yeah, I’m Emma… why do you ask?”

Will finished pouring her coffee before rummaging around under the counter for a package wrapped in red paper. “Me wanker mate asked me to pass this on if yer came in,” he said, handing her the gift. “Said yer might need it instead of the IV, whatever the bloody hell that means.”

Emma waited until Will was preoccupied with another customer before tearing open the paper, a grin splitting across her face when she found a CD of the 80s band Poison inside. There was a post-it note stuck to the cover, written in Killian’s recognizable scrawl.

_Apologies, Swan, it was the only form of poison I could acquire on such short notice. Hopefully it shall do the trick. KJ_

Chuckling to herself, Emma tucked the CD into her purse, impressed that Killian had managed to brighten up her day without even being there in person. _Charming asshole_ , she grinned.

* * *

“Was the album reinforcement needed yesterday, Swan?”

Emma yelped at the voice coming from behind her, nearly tripping over her music stand she was in the middle of setting up. She turned around to find Killian scratching behind his ear, offering her a contrite look. “Jesus, Killian,” she said with a laugh, clutching her hand to her chest. “Give a girl some warning and wear the hat with the bells next time.”

He smiled at her, bending down to pick up the stray sheet music that had been knocked to the floor. “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He passed her the papers and took a step back, looping a thumb under the strap of his satchel.

“It’s OK,” she replied, putting the music back in order. “And no, I managed to restrain from any type of poison yesterday even though some jackass teenager told me I sounded like a ‘poor man’s Adele on crack’,” she added wryly.

Killian’s eyes flickered with a hint of outrage on her behalf. “Well then I applaud your restraint, Swan, because I would have walloped the cheeky bastard over the head with my guitar if I were you.”

“Oh I was close, trust me. But A, I like my guitar too much and B, I’m guessing that would get my ass fired and a broken guitar and regret isn’t going to pay the bills.” Emma tapped a finger to her lips in thought. “Great name for a country song, though.”

Killian smiled at her before noticing the Santa hat sticking out from her purse she’d stashed under her chair. “I thought the ensemble was lacking today, Swan,” he teased, gesturing towards the item. “Not in an accessorizing mood I take it?”

“I just didn’t want to show you up by wearing the same thing again,” she quipped, throwing him a smirk. “I mean, we all know I’d win the ‘who wore it better’ competition. This was out of pure compassion so you wouldn’t be a loser.”

“Is that so, is it?” he replied in amusement, his tongue poking out from between his teeth. “Well I guess it’s lucky that I have something even better to wear today. Behold,” he said dramatically, unzipping his bag to bring out a giant foam hat in the shape of a chimney with little Santa legs poking out. “The pièce de résistance.” 

“Oh my god,” Emma barked out a laugh, covering her mouth with her hands as Killian proudly plonked the millinery monster on his head. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”

He grinned at her. “Come now, Swan, you love it.”

“I’m so sad for the foam that had to die to make that thing,” she countered, shaking her head in a show of sorrow. “Think of the foam family that sent their child out into the world, hoping they’d become something nice, like a mattress. And then this happened.”

“Oi, just for that no free bear claw today,” said Killian, unable to stop his mouth from quirking into a smile at Emma’s laughter. “I’d actually best be off, though,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I can see Will staring daggers at me from here waiting to finish his shift.”

Emma smiled. “That’s alright, I can continue the hat ridicule on my break later. And Killian?” she added, reaching out to give his arm a quick squeeze before thinking better of it. “Um, thank you for the CD,” she said softly. “It was really nice of you.”

“You’re welcome, Emma,” he replied with a fond smile, rolling his eyes when he heard Will shout for him with a trail of colorful adjectives attached. “I might need to borrow it to use on a certain co-worker if that’s OK?”

“Any time,” she laughed.

* * *

The most reception Emma had received the past six days was a polite smattering of applause here and there, with the occasional ‘Merry Christmas’ thrown in. So when she heard loud hooting and hollering halfway through Jingle Bell Rock she was confused to say the very least. That was until she lifted her head in the direction of the commotion and nearly lost her shit laughing when she realized Killian was performing the entire dance routine from Mean Girls behind the counter of his shop.

She could see him hold back his own laughter when he heard her struggle through the lyrics, but carried on with as much grace as a person could muster when they were simultaneously wiping down a counter while swinging their hips around like an idiot. The small crowd burst into applause for both of them when the song reached its presumed conclusion, Killian taking a large bow from the shop, but Emma had other ideas.

Swallowing back another bubble of laughter, Emma leaned forward to make an announcement into the microphone. “What do you say, ladies and gentlemen?” she crowed, keeping the melody going on her guitar. “Do you think we should get Magic Mike over there to perform for us one more time?” She grinned when she saw Killian chuckle and turn bright red, but the showman in him wouldn’t surrender and he gave her a thumbs up, much to the audience’s delight.

Emma launched into the song once more, enjoying the way Killian’s dance moves got more and more ridiculous. She made a mental note to check out YouTube later that night because there were _far_ too many people with their phones out and this whole thing was priceless.

“Four for you, Glen Coco!” she called out at the end of the song, chuckling when Killian threw her a wink and doffed his hat (a gaudy light-up Christmas tree) to the audience, holding out his other arm towards Emma to direct the applause her way.

Emma waved to everyone before announcing she was going to take a short break but that they should definitely check out the donuts on offer. “They’re baked full of rainbows and smiles so everyone can eat and be happy!” she added, tongue firmly in cheek (Killian wasn’t the only Mean Girls connoisseur in these parts, thank you very much). Emma took her time putting her guitar away while Killian served a rush of customers, and walked over to stand to the side of the counter.

She grinned as Killian bagged up the last jelly donut for an elderly woman, who was enthusiastically complimenting him on his rhythm. “I agree, they’re some smooth moves you’ve got there, sailor,” Emma smirked at Killian as he finished up with the lady and strode over to her, the tips of his ears tinged red.

He gave her an embarrassed smile in return. “A group of us performed the routine at a mate’s wedding a few years back,” he said, leaning across the top of the counter. “It appears my muscle memory is still intact, for better or for worse.”

“Regina George would be so proud,” Emma replied, holding a hand to her heart.

“Ahh, but is Emma Swan proud?” Killian teased, arching an eyebrow at her. “That’s the more important question.”

“Maybe _proud_ isn’t the word I’d use,” she coyly replied, tilting her head in thought. “I’d say more… bemused? Bewildered?” Emma leaned in closer to him. “Scarred for life?” She laughed at his huff of faux indignation and reached her hand up to flick the star perched on top of his tree hat.

“You know what? I can live with that,” he replied, playfully batting her hand away. “Just as long as it broke up the monotony of the day for you,” he said, his mouth sliding into an almost shy lopsided smile. “Even for a brief moment.”

Emma matched his bashful demeanor, feeling herself being drawn into the warmth of his eyes. “It’s definitely been a highlight,” she said, her content smile slipping into something more rueful. “I’m almost sad now that tomorrow’s my last day.”

Killian’s face flickered with the briefest hint of disappointment before he cleared his throat and made a big show of getting the largest bear claw from the tray for her. “Well then,” he smiled, placing the pastry onto a napkin and handing it to her, “we’ll just have to make sure it’s a memorable one, won’t we?”

She nodded, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Do you know how to Nae Nae?”

“Sadly no, no.”

* * *

Christmas Eve was a hectic time at the airport with everyone rushing about making last minute dashes home to their loved ones (or, in the case of one couple she overheard, a mad dash to Vegas to be married by an Elvis impersonator, impersonating Santa. People be crazy). But for once, Emma was actually enjoying the atmosphere, even as she sang her way through her thousandth rendition of Silent Night.

It mainly boiled down to the fact that her stint as lone glee club performer was nearly done – but also because Killian had asked her on her break (in a quite adorably nervous fashion) if she’d stick around for a coffee with him when she’d finished. Emma had said yes, quietly happy to have another reason to spend a bit more time with him. 

Winding up her set, Emma pivoted her chair around so that she was facing the donut shop. “I’ve got time for one last song before I wrap up this evening,” she said into the microphone, smiling when Killian lifted his head from the coffee machine to glance her way. “This goes out to a special festive friend who knows a good Christmas tune when he hears one.”

Emma started the opening riff of Smoke on the Water, grinning when Killian whooped with glee and pumped his fist in the air.

After she’d packed up her equipment, Emma sat at the back of the donut shop while Killian closed the place up for the night, dragging the metal gates across the front so no random stragglers could wander in. He brought two takeaway cups over to the booth she was sitting at, along with a plate of assorted goodies leftover from the day (a bear claw naturally included). Emma picked up her cup and took a sip, sighing happily at the rich taste of cocoa.

“I figured you’d like to go back to the good stuff now your Christmas hell is over,” said Killian, smiling as he sat next to her.

“You figured correctly.” Emma frowned at the empty space above his hair. “What happened to your hat with the sparkly present on top? I was looking forward to another round of mocking you.”

Taking a gulp of his drink, Killian reached for a different hat he had stashed away in the pocket of his apron and waggled his eyebrows at her before placing it on his head.

Emma’s eyes lit up at the Santa hat, black in color instead of red, with ‘Bah humbug’ sewn into the strip of white at the front. “I may be biased, but this would have to be my favorite of the week.”

“It’d be remiss of me not to hark back to our first encounter, Milady Scrooge,” he replied, fishing around in his apron pocket again to produce a replica hat. “I got one for you as well,” he said, passing it to her.

“And here I thought nothing could top the 80s hair band CD,” she quipped, plopping the hat on top of her head. “How do I look?”

Considering her for a moment, Killian leaned forward and angled the pom pom to the right, gently brushing aside a stray piece of hair from her forehead. “Beautiful,” he said earnestly.

Feeling a rush of heat sweep the back of her neck, Emma smiled and ducked her head, tracing her finger around the lid of her cup. “I wanted to thank you, Killian,” she said. “For keeping me sane this past week. If you hadn’t…”

“I could say the same for you,” Killian interjected, smiling when Emma lifted her head to peer at him curiously. “This job isn’t exactly a thrill ride at the best of times, even without the Christmas chaos, but listening to your lovely singing and getting to know you…” he scratched his familiar path behind his ear. “It’s been an honor.”

“You say that with such finality,” said Emma, hoping her teasing would mask her nerves. “But last time I checked, we both existed outside of this airport,” she smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe we could meet up for coffee again somewhere else. Not that I don’t appreciate your barista skills of course,” she smirked.

A slow grin spread across Killian’s lips. “I’d like that very much, Swan.

“Good.” Biting her bottom lip, Emma’s gaze drifted briefly to Killian’s mouth before she placed her drink back on the table. She reached down by her feet to pick up a gift bag with an item inside she’d tried not to overthink all day. “You beat me to the punch with the hat, y’know,” she said with a smile, handing him the parcel. “I bought you something to add to your collection.”

Killian lifted the bag and gave it a gentle shake. “No bells?”

“I think one hat with bells is enough for any person,” she laughed, twisting her hands together in her lap. “I’m hoping this might be something better.”

With a fond smile, Killian unstuck the tape that held the top of the bag together and took out the hat to look at. The dimples in his cheeks deepened when he discovered that the red hat had a rather large piece of mistletoe perched on top. “Interesting choice there, Swan,” he said with a grin, sliding the ‘bah humbug’ off his head to swiftly replace it with his gift.

“Is it?” Emma replied innocently, her confidence growing somewhat at his positive reception.

“Hmm, quite the traditional piece,” he said, inching forward on the cushioned seat so that their knees brushed together. Killian reached out to hold her hand, swiping his thumb over her skin. “And in the spirit of all things Christmas I really think we should partake in said tradition, don’t you?”

Emma scooted closer to him, breathing in the scent of peppermint from his drink. “It’d be rude not to,” she murmured, her nose rubbing against his. “And I’d hate to piss off Santa.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Killian replied, before closing the gap between them and pressing his lips against hers. He felt Emma respond in kind and lifted his hand to softly tangle through her hair, resting at the back of her neck.

Sighing happily, Emma angled her head to deepen the kiss, gliding her hand up his broad chest and across his jawline, the scruff of his beard scratching pleasantly against her skin. 

Killian slid his tongue across her bottom lip, tasting the cocoa and cinnamon from her beverage, groaning softly when he felt Emma’s tongue sweep against his in return. He caressed her cheek, thumbing at the dimple in her chin before pulling back so they could catch their breath. “I do love tradition,” he smiled against her lips, pressing another kiss to the side of her mouth where he could feel her smirking.

“I’m definitely warming up to the holiday spirit,” Emma smiled, resting her forehead against his. She leaned back slightly when she felt Killian’s hand drop from her face, snorting when she realized he was taking off his hat to put on her head.

“Would you look at that,” Killian said in wonder, linking his arm around her waist to draw her in closer. “More mistletoe.”

“Technically it’s mistletoe on top of a bah humbug,” she teased, grazing her lips against his. “Does that mean they cancel each other out?”

Killian chuckled. “There’s only one way to know for sure,” he murmured, drawing her in for another kiss.


End file.
